The end of yet another school year is here. For many weeks my teacher friends and I have counted down, dreamed of summer, and packed away school tools and rules. And now it's here. As usual, I'm not really ready.
I tell myself it's the paperwork and packing up that makes me so anxious. But really, it's watching the kids moving on. You see, I'm one of those odd, lucky teachers who gets to watch her students grow up over many years. Some of these guys I've had since kindergarten. Now they're taller than I am.
They have not been perfect children. I don't know why I will miss them so much. They have taxed my patience, talked non-stop, and spent more time working to get out of work than they have working.
They have also magically become their own persons. They don't want to wait for me to tell them anything. They want to tell me what they are thinking about. And they all want to tell me at the same time. They have some of the most creative thoughts and dreams I have ever heard. At least this year.
Because yes, there have been so many more like them who have come and moved on. They too outgrew my height, my books, and my ideas. And this is why I can push them out the door.
It's because I still get to see my former students sometimes that I can see they kept on growing without me. I did my part and got them to the end of childhood. There are more teachers out there just like me who will take them farther than I ever could. I get to be where they started their learning. I sometimes envy those who will see who these kids become. But I belong here to help get these children started down the path to individuality. No, I can't go to middle school with them. Everyone is taller than I am there.
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